So I come in from locking the pool over an hour late because we’re slammed to high hell and back (see my post about Thursday, wash, rinse, repeat, wipe hands on pants) and there is a man standing at my front desk and he says the weirdest thing.
Dude: Can I use your black box? 105 won’t open and I already changed the battery on the door.
I’m confused, this isn’t the gentleman who is currently checked into 105 and even if he was, how in the fuck would he know about the door programmer?
Me: Ummm are you an (brand employee) that is staying with us?
Dude: Oh! No I work across the street I’m Clinically Depressed Sounding FDA from Fake Boutique hotel! I have a guest locked out of their room and our door programmer took a dump and I’ve already tried changing the batteries on the door and it’s still just flashing red and green lights.
It dawns on me then that I talk to this guy every single day when doing the call around and his voice is very unique so I know he’s telling me the truth. They don’t wear uniforms over there or name tags, but it’s definitely Clinically Depressed Sounding FDA.
I went and got the box and told him a couple of other tricks we do here to open a door that doesn’t want to open. He ran back over and reprogrammed the guests door and brought it right back, so in reality it’s just another night in the Genderless Personhood Of The Keys… still after all this time though, there is still a first time for everything.